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MIDDLE-AGED BADASSES

Emma

F or it being my first day off in almost two weeks, it’s been a doozy.

One day you think you’re an adult, making your own choices, and independent of your parents.

Then the next, your father and his friends have inserted themselves, and their satellite system, into your life.

Talk about an invasion of privacy in the name of love for me and baptism by fire for Jack.

Dad called a meeting at Uncle Crew’s old farmhouse. I’ve known Crew my entire life. He and dad have worked together since before they retired from contracting with the CIA. Now they work in other capacities on the downlow, which means, they can do things normal people cannot.

Hell, they do things pretty much no one else can—normal or not.

Dad must have filled them in before we got there, because the group my father works with knew everything.

But then again, they usually do.

This is how the meeting went right before I handed my cell to Ozzy, the tech wizard of the team.

“I love you. We need to make sure you’re safe.” That was Dad.

“Someone snatched you on live TV. What the hell did you think we were going to do?” That was Grady.

“Deep Throat knows all. It’s time to uncover that fucker.” That was Jarvis.

“I’ll figure out who Deep Throat is before the birthday party.” That was Ozzy.

“Sit back and relax, Em. I bought an entire satellite system for situations just like this.” That was Crew.

And my personal favorite…

“Look at you, love. You’re a bloody badass. I’m so proud.” That was Bella who joined the meeting over speakerphone since she and Cole are on vacation with their kids.

For what it’s worth, Bella’s comment pissed Dad and Jack off.

Then Jack confirmed that none of this is legal—not that he wasn’t okay with that. He stated that his number one goal was, and I quote, “to get this shit over with, clear his client’s name, and move forward with life.”

He said that while holding my hand.

It felt good.

Dad had stress lines etched between his eyes. I haven’t seen those there for years. In fact, not since Levi went through his own flavor of drama with Carissa’s parents. Before that it was the last time our family experienced a drive-by shooting.

The meeting was weird, tense, and quick. It ended with me wearing a new bracelet with a tracking device in it that I was instructed not to remove under any circumstance, and my cell is now controlled by Ozzy Graves. He can see everything I do on it and trace every person I come into contact with. They also took down Mark Morse’s number and announced that he’d have an unofficial tap on his phone before lunch.

Not exactly the party anyone wants to start their day off with.

I was done with Dad and his team.

I couldn’t tell if Jack was more disturbed or impressed. It was obvious he was a little bit of both.

But we have things to do. The first on the list is to visit Brett.

Jack and I hike through the woods on the worn path to Whitetail. Brett opens the door to the small bungalow the moment it comes into sight through the barren, winter forest.

“It’s about time,” Brett barks.

“I’m alive and thriving, thanks for asking,” Jack deadpans.

Brett stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Sorry. It’s frustrating being out here in the middle of nowhere with my hands tied.”

“The alternative isn’t great,” Jack mutters. “My antique windows and shot-up living room are a testament to that.”

Jack and I stomp our shoes on the porch rug before stepping inside the warm, tiny house. I’ve only been here once before, but it’s exactly how I remember it—a cottage that would go viral on social media. It’s eclectic and looks like something you’d dream of running across in the English countryside. Bookshelves stand floor to ceiling and flank the old cobblestone fireplace that’s crackling with a low blaze. They’re dotted with old books and knickknacks—pictures of Whitetail and Addy’s cows.

It's cozy and has a way of making one forget about bullets and anonymous callers.

I’m jealous.

Even if my new career as a sports reporter has blown up into something I never expected, I’d rather be hidden away here with Jack.

Brett shuts the door behind us, and I go straight to the fire to warm my hands.

“Do you want anything?” Brett asks as he moves to the small kitchen and opens the packed refrigerator. “I know I’m a big guy, but Addy delivers enough food daily for my entire offensive line.”

I turn and put my back to the fire. “I’m good, thank you. Addy is amazing. I knew this was the best place for you until this settles.”

Jack reaches for an apple sitting on top of an overflowing bowl of fruit. He takes a bite, points to Brett with it, and talks with his mouth full. “It’s a good thing I’m my own brand of baller and create my own destiny in life. Bad luck loves to nip at my heels, but we’re going to get past this. Mark Morse can kiss my ass right before he trips into a prison cell. I did not work this hard to get to where I’m at for some jealous, dried-up quarterback to fuck with my life or yours.”

Wow.

The fire behind me is nothing compared to the warmth between my legs. “This is new. You’ve been calm and collected all morning.”

Jack bites the apple between his teeth and holds it there while he takes his coat off and tosses it over the back of the sofa. He rips another piece of fruit off and says, “I’m keeping my shit together to make a good impression for your father, but I’m pissed and am ready for heads to roll. I’m also protective of the heads in this room.”

Being bottled up has caused Brett to take a cue from Jack, and he starts to pace. “How do you think I feel? I thought Morse was in my corner.” He stops mid-step and turns to Jack. “Not just in my corner, but he’s been supportive. I sure didn’t think he was a murderer. He took the bait really fucking fast.”

Jack continues to eat his apple while he talks. “Asa’s team of middle-aged badasses who do questionable shit for a living are all over it. Once Emma gets another call from our anonymous friend—who, by the way, saved my life—we’ll know who he is. That is, if the badasses are truly badass. We can only hope.”

I frown at Jack. “I thought I saved your life.”

Jack licks his lips and shoots me his sexy half-smirk. “Sorry, baby. You’re right. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to tempt the gods to experience sleeping with you almost naked on your dad’s sofa. That was worth living for.”

“Professional football players dream of the big win like I got, but never would I dream the week following would turn out like this. I should be riding the high of pinnacle success in the game and signing historic contracts, not hiding out in the woods forced to listen to you two talk about your sexcapades.”

“You weren’t paying attention.” Jack tosses his apple core into the trashcan like he’s shooting a three-pointer. “We were on the sofa with her family sleeping upstairs. There was no sex.”

“Can we not talk about us and sex with your client-slash-friend? I think he’s more than just a client since you took rounds for him.” I shift my glare from Jack to Brett. “I have no doubt that after my informant damn near kidnapped me yesterday then warned me about the drive-by that he’ll call again. It’s only a matter of time until we know who he is and can connect the dots.”

Brett collapses into a club chair. “Until then, I sit here and do nothing?”

“After last night, my house is proof that sitting here is better than the alternative.” Jack pulls his cell from his pocket and frowns as he reads the screen before putting it to his ear to answer. “Jack Hale.”

The air in the small cottage grows thicker as Jack’s frown deepens. He turns away from us as we only hear one side of the conversation. “Yes, he is my client, but I have no idea where he is.”

I’d bet my modest salary that the very client he speaks of is sitting in the same room as us. My gaze shoots to Brett as we sit here and listen to Jack tell one lie after another. “I saw him at the parade yesterday. I haven’t spoken to him since. Have you tried his home? I can get you the address.”

Props to Jack for being cooperative, even if it is only in spirit.

“Absolutely. I have full faith my client was framed. He wants to be cooperative. As soon as I hear from him, I’ll ask him to call you.”

I brace.

Brett juts to his feet.

Jack turns another one-eighty, this time pinching the bridge of his nose even though his tone doesn’t give away the tension that’s written all over him. “Of course, officer. Thank you for the call.”

Brett waits to make sure the call was disconnected before he exclaims, “Who the hell was that?”

There are times I see bits of who Jack was back in the day. The cocky high school jock who skated by with average grades—sometimes less than average—and had the student body and everyone else in his vicinity in his chokehold based on personality alone. You never knew what he was going to say.

What he was not was controlled or methodical.

That was the guy I crushed on hard. Hell, I think ninety percent of the female student body was in line right behind me.

But as Jack pulls in a deep breath before exhaling it on a slow nod, all I see is the man he is today.

The attorney and agent to the athletic stars of the world, wheeling and dealing salaries and managing careers and egos.

Combined, Jack Hale the boy has turned into a man so complex and fascinating, he’s hard to resist.

No.

He’s impossible to resist.

And it hasn’t even been a week. But when someone you’ve known all your life crashes into your world, you just know.

The girl in me was infatuated with who he was.

And the woman I am is captivated by who he is to a point I wonder if I can turn back.

Controlled, he’s in command of the situation when we all know the situation is nowhere near in control at the moment. “That was a detective from the Las Vegas Police Department. Ballistics reveal that casings from the weapons retrieved from the hotel room have your prints all over them. Apparently, you’re in the system from when you were booked for a party they busted up in college.”

“Fuck,” Brett bites. “It was disturbing the peace. That’s it. Who knew that would come back to bite me on something like this?”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, but this time I can tell he has to work at maintaining his cool. “One of the weapons with your prints on it was used in an armed robbery at a gas station outside of Vegas days before the game—during the time the team was in Nevada.”

“No,” I say. “But he was set up. We know he was. And the shooting last night is just icing on the cake. Mark Morse is pissed he lost his starting spot, and he’s doing everything he can to make Brett public enemy number one. When that didn’t work, he resorted to attempted murder. Maybe it’s time we tell the police everything.”

“No way. I’m not going to the cops until I have evidence it wasn’t me,” Brett says.

“I agree,” Jack says. “But, man, I’m sorry to tell you this, you have a warrant out for your arrest. Local officers are helping Vegas with the case. You are a wanted man.”

I pull out my cell and go straight to the WDCN website.

There it is.

The headline is top and center.

A Warrant for MVP Founders Quarterback Brett Sullivan’s Arrest in Sin City

“I hate to deliver more bad news.” I hold my phone up. “It’s out in the wild. Your PR issues aren’t going to die off anytime soon. I’m so sorry, Brett.”

“Fuck!” Brett bellows so loud, I’m sure the walls of the bungalow would rattle if they weren’t built of cobblestone.

I should offer my condolences to Jack, too, but he continues to be the controlled man he’s become.

“The good news is, no one knows where you are. But you’re right, we can’t go to the police. Not yet. Now that we have the secret good guys on our side from the neighboring barn, I feel good that this will end sooner rather than later. You just need to stay put.”

Brett drags a hand through his hair. “I’m hedging my bets on an anonymous man who we hope will call again. The plan is shaky at best. And I’m going crazy. I can’t even work out to let off steam. This has to end soon.”

Jack flips through screens on his phone and mutters, “Go for a run in the woods.”

“No. I need a real gym. Weights. I want to throw some medicine balls through a fucking window.”

“Um,” I start. “We’ve had enough broken windows. If you promise not to break anything, I can ask my dad if you can work out in Crew’s barn. They have a whole gym over there. It’s not posh or fancy, but by the looks of them, it works.”

“Hey,” Jack calls. “Don’t make me jealous of middle-aged men.”

I cross the room and wrap my arms around his waist as I fit myself to him. “Don’t make it weird. They’re like my uncles.”

Jack presses his lips to my forehead. “I haven’t been to the gym in two weeks. I can’t get soft now that I know you have an appreciation for muscly middle-aged men.”

“Hello? There’s a warrant out for my arrest,” Brett scoffs with sarcasm.

“Not for long,” Jack declares. “Your name will be cleared, someone will pay for what they did to you, and I’ll use this to make sure the Founders pay up big time in your contract or big time in court. If they want the MVP on board for the next seven years, they’ll need some deep pockets, which I know they have. And when you get married someday and birth your first son, you can name him after my greatness since the only reason he’ll be in existence is because I made sure you avoided the slammer.”

I shift so I can turn to Brett without letting Jack go. “I’ll call my dad so you can get into the gym. You might have to sign some autographs while you’re there—and maybe an NDA—but you’ll be fine. That property is safer than this one.”

Brett twists his neck and cracking fills the space. “Thanks. I need it.”

“I need my keys,” Jack demands. “Oh, and your car was shot up right along with my house. I had it towed off the street. If you send me your insurance information, I’ll call it in for you.”

“Fucking great,” Brett mutters. “Keys are on the table by the door.”

Jack lets me go only to claim my hand. “I need to check on my house and then come right back to the country. It’s DG and pie day.”

“I’m changing so I can hit the gym.” Brett leaves us and shuts himself in the bedroom.

“What’s DG and pie day?” I ask.

“Once a week we take Grandma to Dollar General to get what she needs for the week and then we go to Frank’s Diner for pie. I never miss, except for last week when I was in Vegas. Before the bullets and warrants, I promised I’d make it today. I can’t let Grandma down.”

I shake my head, and my voice cracks a little with emotion. “No, you can’t let your grandma down.”

His hand fists my hair and forces my head back.

Then he kisses me.

Like really kisses me.

When his other hand lands on my ass for a delicious squeeze, my insides flip flop with anticipation. This reminds me I still don’t know where we’re sleeping tonight, but I refuse for it to be on the sofa or in the general vicinity of my family.

I want to go back to simpler times when it was just Jack and me.

Like, two days ago. Before quasi-kidnappings, shootings, and arrest warrants. And definitely before my phone was being monitored by my dad and his friends.

Jack breaks his kiss. “How do you feel about Dollar General and diner food?”

I have to catch my breath. “Dollar General has everything. Totally underrated.”

“Then you should come. It’s an experience. You just have to promise not to tell Grandma about the shooting. She’ll freak. I’ll tell my mom later.”

“I can’t say no to you. In anything, it seems, but I really won’t say no to Dollar General. If the diner has cobbler, you might just be the perfect man.”

Jack lowers his voice and presses his hand into my ass harder. “I should have the menu memorized after going every week since we moved Grandma into Rolling Hills Ranch, but if they don’t have cobbler, I’ll raid their kitchen and make you one myself.”

I give him more of my weight. “How are you still single?”

His expression freezes.

Shit.

The words just popped out of my mouth.

“You don’t have to answer that,” I spit. “It’s none of my business.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.”

That’s not the romantic answer my heart hoped for.

“Fate is what they drone on about in romcoms. My life is the farthest thing from a romcom, and there’s no way I’m leaving my life up to fate. If I waited for the universe to bestow goodness on me, it would never come. That’s why I had to find you after the game in Vegas.”

Every cell in my body freezes. “You what?”

He lifts his chin. “I knew you were there all week, but my schedule was packed. After your interview went viral, I asked high and low where I could find the woman who chased down Brett Sullivan. I was just lucky you went to the bar and not straight to your room.”

“Jack.” I wrap my arms around him tighter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

I don’t even have to think about that. “No. Not at all.”

“I wanted to reconnect and made my own fate. Though I didn’t know I’d be right here or plan to drag you along to solve a whacked mystery involving my client. I feel fucking bad about this. And when you were kidnapped … I’ve never felt guilt like that.”

I take a chance and tell him the truth. “I thought you were a player.”

He hikes a brow. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re … you.” It’s lame but it’s all I’ve got. “And I assumed our one night would only be one night.”

“A few things to know about me, Emma. I don’t have time to be a player. That shit is exhausting. I was raised by women to respect women. If I tried to play a woman, I swear my mom and grandma would figure it out just by looking at me. I can’t explain it, but it’s like they have superpowers. And do you really think I’d fuck my best friend’s little sister for a one off? I mean, you’re you .” He mocks me by emphasizing that word. “You’re Emerson Hollingsworth. You are not a one-night stand. You’re a fucking prize. I do not take that lightly.”

Tears spring to my eyes.

His hands claim my face. “I’m pissed that you thought I’d do that to you.”

My words are raspy. “I don’t know what to say.”

His lips tip on one side. “Beg me for forgiveness and promise you’ll make it up to me in bed later.”

I bite back my teary smile. “See? This is why I thought you were a player.”

He shrugs. “Lucky you. You get my winning personality without the drama.”

“Without the drama? That’s cute.” I snort. “But, yes. I am lucky.”

“Remember that when we’re shopping at Dollar General.”

“Who doesn’t like Dollar General?” I ask. “And you already bought me couture. Dollar General makes sense with your layered personality.”

He pulls me in for a deep kiss. When his tongue plunges into my mouth to dance with mine, the depth of him bleeds into me and settles in a place I’ve never felt before.

Yes, there are more layers to Jack Hale than I ever knew. Layers that I can’t wait to explore.